Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1887-10-12
From the Detroit Free Press.
AN INDIAN LEGEND.

If you have ever spent q winters
night lost and alone in the forest
wilds, you can appreciate my feelings
of despair when l found myself weary
bewildered and storm-bound in the
great woods of Canada.
1t was twenty years ago, to be sure
but the recollection of that night is
as vivid in my mind as an event Of
yesterday. I had spent the day il
pursuit of game, and when night be-
gan to fall gave up the chase with the
purpose Of going to the settlement
An hour of hard trudging through the
snow still found me among the whit
ened trees, confused, lost.
After fully awakening to the reall-
cation OF the situation, there seemed
to come cold wave sweeping through
the great dismal forest, and with the
shudder of apprehension came chill
that seemed to stiffen my limbs and
frost my face. The paroxysm OF fear
lasted but q brief period, but the IL.
tense cold could not be overcome by
mental action, and the fact became
orcibly Impressed that / must keep
moving or perish.
"If only | knew which way to co."
muttered to myself.
| gazed through the leafess, creaking
branches of the tall trees to see if the
stars had appeared, but the sky was
overcast and not q tWinkling object
met the anxious gaze. Night had full
ly come: there was no moon, but the
darkness was not intense. The earth
being mantled with feecy white, and
the trees fringed with the same, dark
objects were visible for several yards
around.
The tramp was resumed with no
idea as to direction or what adven-
lures lay in my path. Perhaps [ was
going deeper into thegreat woods, and
If not there was little hope OF getting
out that night.
What q night The wind cut as if
filled with millions of fine needles, fly
ing points foremost, and now began
crusting so as to make walking more
labOrious.
! cast about me for some spot
which would afford shelter from the
bowling tempest, but only the sturdy
trees, studded IN the great, white
blanket could be seen. was weary
ard chilled to the bone, but dared
not stop. H6ar after hour slowly
passed, and no halt had been made.
MY watch told me that half Of the
night had passed, but could |
survive the other half? That was the
question.
| did, of course, but it seems to me
now, as it did then, that Providence
Guided my weary steps to q safe res
cue.
At the very moment when [ Was
discussing the possibility Of enduring
the cold until dawn, strange object
doomed up before me. 1t was a wig
wan made of poles, and closely COW
cred with bark.
A single wigwam, buried, it proved,
in the heart of the great Canada
woods. A cloud of smoke almost as
white rs the snow issued from the
top. Never was mortal more graft
fed. Going close to the fur-closed
doorway | cried:
"Hello there"
There was no response and / cried
out again. The skin moved, and the
muzzle OF a rifle appeared.
ga white hunter lost in the woods, E"
/ said, getting out of the range OF the
gun.
white hunter come In"
A moment later [ was out of the
biting frost, out of danger.
Hound the only occupant Of the
forest lodge to be q very aged Indian.
His face as wrinkled, his form bent,
and the light covering Of hair upon his
head as white as the crystals that
danced in the winter wind outside.
The old man spoke English very
clearly and seemed glad that [ had
come.
He revived the fire.. wrapped blan-
ket OF wolf skin about my shoulders,
and aU once set about preparing some
warm drink and food. After thaWing
out and partaking ofthe red hermit s
food, we sat cross-le legged like Turks
and smoked our pipes. The Indian
was inclined to be reticent at first,
but when he learned that 1 was from
the Upper Mississippi he became inter
ested.
"You have been up and down the
great river ?" he Intercepted.
"Many times,'' returned
"You have seen the great bluff on
the sunrise side of Lake Pepin,
then? ?"
"Maiden Rock?"
''Yes."
"Time and again. 1t is q famous
rock. Every boat that passes up or
down the river contains people who
gaze upon the great bluff and think OF
Winona, who killed herself for love by
leaping from its crest to the stony
base below. All the pilots tell the
story over and over again of the
tragic end of the pretty Indian CIR"
The old man shook his head slowly.
81 have heard the story" he said,
thoughtfully, shut none OF the pale
faces have 1T right"
"How do you know?"
"I was there at the time, and do
know"